Our Uncle Oliver
by Ellie Austin
Summary: Somehow Peter Pan is stuck in London. He cannot fly, so must stay with the Darlings. A family friend, Mr Barrie, wants to learn more about the new boy, but the reappearance of Oliver Hunt makes life difficult... and dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional. The original characters / settings of _Peter Pan_ are the creation of J. M. Barrie.

Chapter 1

Mr Barrie walked along the pavement with the usual spring in his step. Dressed in his evening best, he charged up the stone steps of Number 14 and rang the bell. As the door opened he could hear the laughter and felt the warmth of it, the Darling household.

Barrie was greeted by the beaming but shy face of Liza, the almost questionably young looking housemaid. "Good evening Mr Barrie, sir."

"Ah, Liza. You are looking as delightful as ever" Liza dropped a curtsy to hide her blushing cheeks, and took Mr Barrie's hat and coat.

From out of the Drawing Room came Mrs Darling, the loveliest lady in Bloomsbury. "James! I am so glad you came. Are you well" she asked, kissing Mr Barrie on the cheek.

"Oh yes... quite well, thank you Mary." was his reply.

Mrs Darling gestured to him to follow her into the Drawing Room. He entered into what appeared to be either a jolly party or an out of control rabble; everywhere children were running about, dancing, laughing and shouting. In amongst all this, Mr Darling was attempting to regain some parental control. On hearing the door close he turned and, seeing Mr Barrie, smiled and grasped the other gentleman's hand in a firm and friendly shake. "James! How are you? Please... sit down. Children! Children! Uncle James has arrived!"

A sudden throng of children were surrounding Mr Barrie. Nine children, to be precise, and all clamouring for James' attention. "Uncle James!"

"Inky Man!"

"Have you brought me a present?"

"Have you written any new stories?" All were bombarding him with questions as they always did, and Mr Darling was trying to quiet them as he always did. But as they settled, Barrie noticed a tenth child leaning against the piano and looking uninterestedly towards the other children. There was a touch of melancholy about the boy's face, and there was a nervousness in the way he stood, as if ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger.

"Well, hello... and who are you?" James kept his voice casual and friendly, but the boy only replied with a steely glare.

"James..." announced Mrs Darling as she walked over to the strange youth, "This is Peter." The boy appeared agitated when she put her hands on his shoulders, but he said nothing and didn't shrug her off.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Peter. My name is James Barrie. I hope we'll be friends." Peter looked up at him with a curious expression on his face, but still said nothing.

Wendy Darling, unable to control her own excitement, rushed forward and stood in front of Mr Barrie "Peter is to stay with us!" she almost giggled "He is our new brother!" At her words, Peter's face flashed with anger and he barged past Mrs Darling and Wendy, slamming the Drawing Room door and stamping up the staircase.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alone in the Nursery, Peter Pan did something he couldn't remember doing before; he cried. But his sobs quickly became screams; screams of rage and desperation, of loss and pain. Furniture, books, and toys took the brunt of Peter's anger, finding themselves flying across the room and crashing against the walls and floor.

Feeling a little more in control, Peter paused to survey the damage. There wasn't much, but he was bound to be told off again for making such a mess. Catching his own reflection in the Nursery window, Peter hurried towards it and pushed it open. He climbed onto the ledge and peered over into the small, stone-paved garden below. There was a large tree growing in front of the window, but the nearest branch would take quite a leap to reach, and it seemed an awfully long way to fall. Nevertheless, Peter considered it. Or maybe he was hoping that if he jumped, he'd remember how to fly and be able to go home.

The sound of the Nursery door opening alerted Peter to the presence of Wendy. She stood still, her hand on the doorknob. Taking a quick glance around the room, her gaze returned to the boy on the window ledge, looking as though he were about to jump.

"Peter?" Her voice was nervous and pleading. She was sure he wouldn't, but Wendy was shocked that he'd even consider it. Surely living here wasn't so bad?

Peter slowly moved back, away from the open window, and with a harsh scowl, pushed past Wendy once again and returned downstairs. Wendy stayed for a few moments as she listened to Peter descending the stairs, then she too left the Nursery for the Drawing Room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

With all the children tucked up in bed, George Darling and James Barrie were enjoying a brandy each. Mary reappeared after her final patrol of the children's bedrooms, and settled herself on the sofa.

"May I ask..." ventured Mr Barrie "How did you manage to come by another one to adopt? Are you collecting the little darlings now?" Mary let out a charming laugh and George snickered at the humour.

"Any more and we shall burst at the seams!" He replied.

"Well actually, it was the strangest thing..." began Mrs Darling. "It was just like before, when the other boys just turned up, and Wendy insisted we keep them because they were her boys! Only, with Peter, Wendy awoke in the middle of the night to find him unconscious on the Nursery floor! Naturally we put him to bed and he woke up, apparently quite well not long after. Of course, we couldn't turn him away then, and he seemed terribly disorientated, poor child... but even so, he certainly didn't want to stay. George had to hold onto him until he stopped panicking and trying to jump out of the window! It was all very unsettling."

Mr Barrie sat back and pondered. "And... does he want to stay here now?" Mary glanced at her husband and gave a regretful smile.

"I'm afraid not. But he doesn't leave because he has nowhere to go. We are sure he'll be happy, once he's settled in."

"Oh, of course. Of course." James assured them. "Tell me... where does he come from?" Mrs Darling's gaze dropped to the floor as Mr Darling cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"He says... He says he comes from Neverland."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mr Barrie was indeed curious as to this new boy's history. Of course, he was sure he was not Peter Pan, his own creation. How could he be? But the child was adamant when asked, and Wendy assured the adults that it was true.

But Mr Barrie was almost certain that it was he, himself who had dreamed up the flying, eternal boy of his stories, so how could this boy, clearly a solid child of flesh-and-blood, be a fictional character? It was not possible.

In all fairness, Barrie could not remember who had originally come up with Peter Pan. He was aware that the first stories had come about when playing with Wendy and John in Kensington Gardens, and it was perfectly possible that it was Wendy who had first planted the seed in Mr Barrie's head. Could it be that she was describing a real child, and that her adventures with Peter Pan were true? Surely not.

In an effort to discover the truth and abate his own curiosity, Barrie began spending as much of his time as possible with Peter and the Darlings, and he was struck by the boy's wilful, wild character, and the similarities this presented with Peter Pan of Neverland.

"Peter! You will play nicely or not at all." George Darling's stern tone broke through the shouts and laughter and brought silence. Peter looked up at Mr Darling's angry gaze, and scowled back, pouting. Recently, he and John had not been getting along. They were not compatible to begin with, but in Neverland he had always been able to fly away and ignore him. But here, in the confinement of Number 14, there was no escaping one another.

Peter felt his own anger grow, upset that John was getting away with his own behaviour scot-free, again! "He started it!" Peter shouted, enraged.

"Do not raise your voice to me, young man!" Mr Darling had always held the role of disciplinarian, and took it very seriously. He was not usually successful, but he saw in Peter a serious need for strict punishment, and this toughened him towards the boy.

Peter's scowl sharpened at the insult of being addressed as a 'young man'; He was nothing of the sort. He was _The Eternal Youth_, and he would not grow up! He fought the urge to retaliate, and bit back the insult that was on the tip of his tongue.

It had not taken Peter long to decide he hated Wendy's father; George fulfilled everything that Peter always knew he would loathe in a parent. But he was now in a constant battle to keep this hatred under control, fearing the damage it would do to his friendship with his Lost Boys and Wendy. He was right to fear this; the other children had fallen silent as they always did when Peter and their father clashed. They all felt ripped apart by their loyalty to both, and so would remain neutral until the storm had passed.

Mr Barrie watched the confrontation with interest. He preferred to avoid punishing the children, and was grateful there were adults there to do it for him. But he was questioning George's treatment of Peter, singling him out as the trouble-maker in almost every incident. He saw now that Peter was not about to back down, so he decided to defuse the situation.

"John, perhaps you should apologise to Peter first, for teasing him."

John gave him an incredulous look. "But I didn't..." Mr Barrie's stare stopped the boy in his tracks, and he grudgingly turned to Peter. "Sorry, Peter." He mumbled, glaring at his own feet. Peter stared at him for a moment, then grinned triumphantly.

"That's alright." He answered, and turned back to the other boys to continue planning the rules of their next game.

"You're supposed to say 'sorry' back!" squealed John, incredulous. Peter glanced at him and smirked. He was not going to apologise for pushing John when John deserved it.

"Peter!" George's voice was still loud and authoritative. "Apologise to your brother."

"HE IS NOT MY BROTHER!" Peter screamed. This was what the onlookers had feared would happen. What usually followed now was a shouting match, ending with Peter being dragged to the Nursery to calm down, or smacked for insolence. Either way, the situation was bound to escalate.

Luckily for all involved, the doorbell rang at that very moment, and George Darling's desire to not lose face in front of the neighbours won out. He straightened up, and glanced back at Peter, as if for that split second he'd forgotten the boy existed. All thoughts of discipline gone, he hurried the children into the front hall.

"Upstairs, all of you. It's time for bed." At these words, mayhem ensued; each of the children darted in opposite directions, all adamant that it certainly was not time for bed. This being a daily occurrence, the adults were ready for them.

Mr Darling managed to snag Michael and a twin, while Mrs Darling stopped Tootles with a hug. Liza gave chase and corralled Curly, John, and Slightly up the stairs towards their bedrooms, while Mr Barrie retrieved the remaining twin from his hiding place under the table.

By far, the most difficult of the boys at bedtime was Peter, followed closely by Nibs, and it was no surprise that the two often combined forces to resist the grownups' greatest and most hated law (excluding bath time.)

Mrs Darling knew full well that it would take a long time to get all the children tucked in; and not one to be easily shamed or embarrassed, she proceeded to the front door.

As Mary opened the door, Peter and Nibs launched the attack; they charged towards George and Mr Barrie wielding bows and arrows. The arrows were of course blunt, but both men ran to avoid being hit.

The angry shouts and wicked laughter flew past Mrs Darling as her eyes took in the visitor and her face beamed with delight. "Oliver! How lovely! I did not know you were even in the country!" She pulled the man into a firm embrace. "How are you?"

"Mary! Oh, fine, fine... quite well." The man was young and rather handsome, with slick hair and a thin, trimmed moustache.

"George!" on hearing his wife's call, Mr Darling relinquished his struggle to disarm Nibs and turned to her. "Look who's here. It's Oliver!"

Mr Darling smiled broadly at his guest, trying to ignore the twinge of embarrassment that shot through him. On walking towards Mary and Mr Hunt, George gave the man a hearty handshake and beckoned him on into the house. "Oliver, how are you? I haven't seen you in years! Do come in."

"George. It's been too long!" On seeing Nibs he stopped, looking the boy up and down. "Hello... who's this?" He said in a heightened tone. Just as Mrs Darling answered, Peter shot out from within the kitchen and sped towards his friend. On seeing the new adult he skidded to an abrupt stop, and eyed the man suspiciously.

"And this is Peter." Mary added.

James had come to stand in the doorway of the living room, and was shocked to see who the visitor was. It seemed it was only he who saw the sudden spark in Oliver Hunt's eyes when Peter stopped in front of him. Mr Barrie watched as Hunt considered the boy, smirking almost to himself. Peter now scowled, feeling a touch of fear run up his spine; but it was fleeting. This man was just another grownup to ignore.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Oliver Hunt was known to Mr Barrie. He had heard rumours about the man's _darker _indulgences; within the cricket club, of which Mr Barrie was a keen batsman, gossip ran rife, and it was said that Mr Hunt preferred the company of children for less than admirable intentions.

James understood the folly of such rumours, himself being the victim of such accusations after befriending the Darlings, but he himself had met with Oliver Hunt on occasion, and could not ignore the sense of menace that surrounded the man, and the strange, sinister tone apparent in his voice.

James did not like the man, and it troubled him to find that Oliver was first cousin to Mary Darling, and intent on visiting her for a prolonged holiday.

Mr Barrie became determined to keep a close eye on all the children, and proceeded to make certain none of them were ever left alone with their dear Uncle Oliver. Of course, he could not protect them at all times, especially with his current popularity as a writer...

In a feeble attempt to keep Hunt away from the children, James decided to voice his anxiety to Mrs Darling;

"Mary..." He stopped her as she turned away from the nursery door, once again having won the battle for bedtime. She smiled at him, clearly exhausted. She looked so lovely, Mr Barrie almost thought better of troubling her with such a sinister burden, but he pressed on.

"Mary, I... I have, in the past, been introduced to your cousin, and I even spent some time with him some years ago..." Here he paused, and Mary mistook this as a cue to respond.

"Oh really, James? And you both let me introduce you again the other day? How silly you've made me feel!" She giggled, and began making her way down the hall.

"No... Mary..." James rushed to stop her. "I'm sorry, but please, let me finish." He sighed deeply as Mrs Darling gave him her full attention. "I have had dealings with Oliver Hunt in the past, and I have heard certain... stories... accusations, you might say. I do not think he is safe to have around the children."

Mary stared for some moments, processing what she had just heard. She uttered a noise of bewilderment and laughed in disbelief.

"James... I do not think I understand what you are implying. You presume my dear cousin is a dishonourable man, simply based on some sordid _rumours _you have heard? You? Of all people, you would take such slander at face-value?" Her anger built, as did the volume of her voice, until she checked herself, for fear of rousing the children.

Her manner suddenly became cold and efficient. "Well, I thank you, Mr Barrie, for your concern, but quite frankly, it is no business of yours. I am sure you have enjoyed enough of our hospitality this evening, and I would be grateful if you could show yourself to the door."

"Mary..."

"Goodnight, Mr Barrie." James gave a slight nod and a smile of defeat, and made his way downstairs to fetch his coat and hat.

Unbeknown to either the Inky Man or Mary Darling, a child _had_ been roused by their heated conversation, and was just now inching the door open to watch his mother disappear along the corridor, on her way to bed.

The door creaked slightly as Curly pulled it shut, the latch clicking loudly into place. He stood for a moment, considering what he had heard, then spun about and raced to the nearest bed, leaping onto it and its sleeping occupant.

"Wake up, chaps!" was his cry, as the other boys groaned angrily in their waking. "Nibs! I've just heard mother and Inky Man fighting! Wake up!" Without warning, a fist shot out from under the covers, and connected with Curly's chin, knocking him onto the floor.

"Curly! Bloody go to sleep!" Nibs' angry order came out in a mumble as he fought to return to his dreams.

"But this is important!" insisted Curly, already up off the floor, used to Nibs' moments of violence. "Inky Man said Uncle Oliver was 'dishonourable'! Doesn't that mean bad?" Curly had moved on to the next bed, and was vigorously shaking Slightly's shoulder, forcing him to take notice.

"Get off me, Curly!" Slightly smacked his brother's hands away with a half-hearted effort, and Curly found himself under attack from the twins and Tootles, who all threw their pillows at him simultaneously, knocking him off balance and onto the floor, once again.

Somewhat disheartened, but still very much determined, Curly decided to turn to Peter; being their leader, this was an intelligent if obvious choice. But on looking towards Pan's bed, Curly found it empty.

"Where's Peter?" Curly felt a pang of worry for his friend, knowing he had not been happy with his current situation, and fearing he had run away.

"Where do you think?" replied Slightly, in a condescending tone. "He's sneaked off to the nursery, as usual. He'll get a right royal beating if he's caught sharing Wendy's bed."

"Why?" piped up a twin. "We all slept in the same bed in Neverland."

"Yes, but we're not in Neverland anymore, are we! We didn't have rules there."

The twin stared hard at the floor, thinking. But after some time, he clearly gave up, and slumped back onto his pillow.

Curly also did not understand the reasoning behind this rule, but in truth, neither did any of the other children. And because most of the grownup's rules made little sense, he did not ponder it for long. Instead, he crept back to the door, and out into the hallway.

Having made sure that the coast was clear, he padded silently down to the nursery, and slipped inside.

The nightlights were still all ablaze, and Curly took in the still forms of Michael and John in their beds, and Wendy and Peter snuggled in together. He then looked to his left, hearing the slow, heavy breath of Nana, and saw her sleeping soundly in her doghouse. It would be a terrible thing to wake her, sure to get him into trouble for being out of bed, but he _had_ to tell Peter what he had heard. Besides, if Peter could get in without waking Nana, so could he.

Curly carefully began to tiptoe towards Wendy's bed, negotiating the odd book or toy that had been left in his path. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he reached his goal, and, after glancing wearily back towards the sleeping dog, placed a hand on Peter's shoulder to rouse him.

It was harder than he thought; In Neverland, Peter had hardly ever slept, and when he had, he could be woken by the smallest noise, always expecting an attack.

Now, it seemed, Peter had become as difficult to wake as the other boys, groaning in annoyance and slapping Curly's hand away. In frustration, Curly increased his efforts, calling Peter by name. This escalated, Curly forgetting the need for quiet until it was too late.

Nana's big, brown eyes snapped open at the noise. Seeing Curly out of bed and causing mischief, she immediately belted out a deafening bark that woke the whole house. She continued her fray, ignoring Curly's pleas for silence, until her master burst in through the door.

All the children were now sat up in their beds, still plagued with groggy sleep. The result was that Peter failed to think to get out of Wendy's bed before the adults arrived, and Wendy failed to think to shove Peter onto the floor before her father came in.

In fairness, neither child thought they were doing wrong anyway, so when they were met with the shocked and appalled face of Mr Darling, they presumed, at first, that it was directed at Curly.

"You..." Words seemed to fail George Darling as he beheld his daughter, sharing a bed with that boy. He did not hate Peter, as he suspected Peter hated him, but he had always been weary of the affection he and Wendy had for each other, and now it seemed, his fears were justified.

Peter was horribly surprised when Mr Darling stormed over to the bed and seized him roughly by the arm. Peter's first instinct was to get away, and he tried violently to escape George's grasp. George held firm, and dragged the screaming boy to his feet. Peter continued to struggle and cry out as he was pulled towards the door.

Wendy finally distinguished what was happening, and leapt out of bed. "Father! Please! What are you doing?" She was immediately joined by Curly, John, and Michael, all pleading their father to stop.

Mary entered the nursery to the shouts of her children, and the sight of an enraged George wrestling a frantic Peter towards the door.

"George? What's going on?" Mr Darling stopped his advance, and looked at his wife.

"Mary... this boy was... in bed with our daughter!" Mrs Darling stared at her husband, dumbstruck. She looked to Peter, then to Wendy, and her face remained blank. She was silent for several moments, before blinking and refocusing on her husband. A smile suddenly flickered across her face.

"George, dear... I'm sure it was perfectly innocent."

"That is _not_ the point! I will not allow this boy to think it is acceptable to sleep in the same bed as Wendy! What about when they are older? What then?"

"Well, what are you going to do?" Mary shot an anxious glance towards Peter.

"I am going to discipline him, so he'll not do it again! That's what!" with that, George returned to the task of dragging Peter from the nursery.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Breakfast the next morning was a solemn affair; George Darling scowled darkly into his newspaper, occasionally picking at his toast, while his children sat around the table in silence, obediently eating their porridge, and Mary surveyed them all, with an apprehensive eye.

All were brutally aware of Peter's absence.

The night before, after being woken by the din of Nana's barks, they were all kept awake further by Peter's cries of pain, emanating from the spare bedroom where he had been taken. His screams were sharply punctuated, every few moments, by the loud slap of a leather belt against skin.

After what seemed like an age, the house was filled with silence, until the Lost Boys, feigning sleep, heard their former leader quietly open the door to their bedroom, close it behind him, and slip into bed.

All the while, and for a long while after, they listened to his relentless sobs, until sleep finally claimed them all.

In the morning, the boys had not looked at Peter as he slept, nor did they attempt to rouse him, but instead hurried silently downstairs to breakfast.

Oliver Hunt had also been disturbed by the noise that night, and had even helped Mary corral the other children back to their beds, after the scene in the Nursery. He had stood outside the door of that spare bedroom, listening, and waiting for its occupants to emerge.

At last, George did; still grasping the belt he had just used to beat Peter, and with a dark expression on his exhausted face, he glanced briefly at his wife's cousin, before continuing down the hall, to his own room.

When he was out of sight, Hunt reached out with one hand, pushing open the door. It was dim in the room, and he heard Peter before he saw him.

Try as he might, Peter could not silence the uncontrollable sobs, racking his body. The pain was almost unbearable, aggravated tenfold with the unfairness of George Darling's actions; Peter didn't even know what he had done wrong!

The movement of the door drew his attention to Hunt's presence, and suddenly a profound sense of shame overwhelmed him, and he wanted nothing more than to fold in on himself and become invisible.

Oliver lingered at the door, watching the involuntary shuddering of Peter's shoulders as he faced away from him, leaning against a bed.

Deciding at last on a course of action, Hunt approached the boy and knelt down beside him. Both were silent for a long while, the man full of patience, until the boy finally looked up at him, still quivering from shock.

Oliver smiled at Peter; a sincere, friendly smile, filled with warmth. Pan's bottom lip began to tremble again, so the man enveloped him in a comforting hug.

"Now..." began Hunt, unwrapping the boy's arms from around his chest, and looking into those bright, blue eyes "I think you better be getting to bed, don't you?"

Peter looked at him, and sniffed, his brow furrowed into an expression of disappointment and fear. Hunt saw him glance warily at the door.

"Don't worry!" he said, reassuringly "George went to bed as well. I watched him go. Come on..." Oliver stood, then helped Peter to his feet, before steering him towards the door. "Oh!" he exclaimed, pulling Peter back, and leaning close to his ear "But I wouldn't let him get away with this, if I were you."

Peter was momentarily puzzled, but then smiled at the man. He was right. No one, let alone George Darling, could treat Peter Pan like that and get away with it!

Oliver's cheerful manner as he entered the dining room for breakfast was at odds with the sombre atmosphere created by the rest of the family. There was the usual dandy strut to his walk, and he even whistled as he piled food onto his plate. He seemed not at all phased by the lack of conversation or greetings, and tucked in heartily to his own bowl of porridge.

George noisily turned the page of his broadsheet, glancing over it to acknowledge Hunt's presence, before feigning interest in some dreary column concerning income-tax.

"I thought I'd take the children to the park today, Mary." Oliver piped up. Mary looked at him in surprise.

"All of them?"

"Yes. Why not? It seems jolly fine weather for a spot of cricket, and they do seem in need of cheering up." The children, at this suggestion, had indeed already cheered up; some of them seemed almost giddy with excitement, and an eager murmur broke through their silence.

"Oh, may we go?"

"Yes! Oh, please say yes!"

At that moment, Peter entered the dining room. He wore the deepest scowl the children had ever seen, and concern soon replaced their excitement.

Without a word, Peter walked over to an empty chair, and sat down. They all knew he must have been sore, but he didn't even wince. All the while, he kept his eyes fixed on Mr Darling, who was simply pretending he hadn't noticed Peter come in.

"Good morning, Peter." Mrs Darling decided the best thing to do was act normally.

"Hello." Peter mumbled, bluntly, but finally turned his gaze to her, instead of her husband. She smiled at him but he turned away, catching Wendy's eye instead. She too, sent him an awkward smile, which he saw was rife with pity. He gave a quick smile back, but she saw that it didn't touch his eyes.

Peter turned his attention to the porridge in front of him. He picked up the spoon, and started stirring, slowly. He was aware that many eyes were still upon him, but he focused on the patterns he was making.

"Peter... Uncle Oliver has offered to take you all to the park. Would you like that?" Peter paused his stirring, and looked back to Mary, his face blank. Then he looked at Oliver, and grinned. Hunt shot him a wink, grinning back.

"Good. That's settled, then." She interpreted. "Children... if you have finished eating, you may go and get ready."

Most of the boys scrambled from their chairs, and towards the door.

"Is _he_ coming?" Peter, still in his seat, gestured towards George, malice in his tone. The boys heading to the door were stopped in their tracks, and turned to watch with worried eyes. Mr Darling roughly dropped his paper to his lap, attempting to keep his temper.

"Peter! Don't be rude!" Mrs Darling admonished. Peter ignored her, his scowl directed at George, who was still trying to ignore the boy.

"Don't be silly, lad." Oliver chimed in "George has got important things to do at work, haven't you, George?" Mr Darling gave a grunt of conformation, and continued reading.

"Mummy?" Michael had collected up enough courage to interrupt. "Is Inky Man coming to play, too? Inky Man's good at cricket! Can he come, mummy? Please?"

"He might be a little busy, darling."

"No he won't be! He likes cricket! And he hasn't seen me for ages! Please?"

Mary considered her son's proposal, and decided that perhaps it would be good for James to spend some time with Oliver, and see just how good he is with the children.

"Alright, sweetheart. We can stop at his house on the way."

"Hurray!" Michael rushed from the room, followed by his brothers. Only Peter remained at the table, still glaring at Mr Darling, something shockingly close to hatred burning in his eyes.

"Peter." He turned to see Wendy standing beside his chair, her face full of apprehension. "Please?" They stared at each other for a moment, then Peter released a sigh of surrender, and finally slipped off his chair, without eating a bite of his breakfast, leaving the room with Wendy, to join the rest of the children.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Barrie sat on the park bench, overlooking the cricket match with an uncharacteristic lack of interest. Porthos (another St. Bernard) and Nana, who were lying at his feet, appeared even less interested in the game, and were both passing the time by dozing.

It was Mary's turn to bat, and James was rather impressed with the wallop she gave, that sent the ball flying.

"Bravo!" He applauded. He had to smile when she dropped him an exaggerated curtsy; obviously, he had been somewhat forgiven.

Michael, who was having an awful time, abruptly gave up altogether, and wondered over to sit with James. Sport had never been the child's strongpoint, and he enjoyed, far more, watching the Inky Man write. Michael was convinced he was Mr Barrie's favourite, and he was right.

It was Peter's turn to bat. Since arriving at the park, Mary was pleased to see he was back to his normal self, playing and laughing with the others. It was a great weight off of her shoulders.

John was wicketkeeper, Nibs was bowler, and everyone else was spread out in a most un-tactical manner.

At first bowl, the ball shot past Peter, who swung well, but missed. John cheered triumphantly, and was momentarily joined by his 'teammates'. Peter looked down, and was horrified to see the bails of the wicket, strewn on the grass.

"What are you playing at?" Peter shouted angrily, fixing John with a venomous stare.

"What do you mean?" Countered John. He couldn't help the cocky grin that continued to play across his face. Peter walked up to him, standing threateningly close, their noses almost touching.

"I did _not _hit that wicket!" By this time, everyone had quietened, surprised at Peter's sudden shift in mood.

"You must have just touched it. Don't worry..." John continued in a condescending tone, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder. "It happens to the best of us."

Peter knocked away John's hand, and in a flash, punched him in the face, and wrestled him to the ground. John defended himself by pulling hard on Peter's hair, before rolling on top of him, and returning the blow. The boys viciously hit, kicked, and bit each other, while both Mary and Wendy screamed at them to stop, and the other boys cheered them on.

Barrie had watched the entire thing, and decided it would be best to step in, before one of them got seriously hurt. Hunt, also, came to this conclusion. It was odd how both men shared a calmness in the face of such a situation, even if they did so for different reasons.

"Boys! Boys! That's enough!" Each man grabbed a boy, and together, with considerable effort, they managed to drag the two of them apart. Hunt had a harder time of keeping hold of Peter; he continued to thrash violently, and hurl abuse at his so-called brother.

"I'll get you, John! I swear! You'll be sorry!"

"Stop it!" Mrs Darling's unrestrained cry, silenced even Peter. "You wicked boys! How dare you?" Tears of fury were springing into her eyes, and all the children were stunned to see their mother, driven to such a state. She took a breath to calm herself, then looked past Peter, to the man behind him.

"Oliver... Would you mind taking Peter and John home, please? Their inconsiderate behaviour should not have to ruin the other children's day."

"Of course, Mary. I'd be happy to."

"Uh... I'll take them." I sudden pang reminded Mr Barrie of the possible danger; He could not knowingly allow Hunt to be completely alone with any of the children... It was too much of a risk.

Mary stared at him for a moment. Obviously, she had guessed his train of thought, but at least she was considering the options.

"Oh no, James. It is too far out of your way, surely... You'll want to return to your writing soon."

"I can write anywhere." He responded, too quickly.

"Well..." Mary bit her lip, but then smiled. "Then you can both take them home together."

The two men glanced at each other, then, just as quickly, looked away, with polite smiles.

John and Peter marched forward with their heads down, hands stuffed into pockets. Neither looked up nor spoke for the entire walk home. This was mirrored, almost exactly, by their adult companions.

The four arrived home to the frenzied questions of Liza, who demanded to hear the whole story. She rushed to and fro, muttering all the while about the shocking behaviour of "the youth of today", and commenced cleaning the blood from the boys' faces.

When she was finally satisfied, she bustled back to the kitchen to continue with her usual chores, and the four were, once again, left in each other's company.

About an hour later, when Mary and the other children arrived home, they found Peter, James, and Oliver in the middle of a game of _Snap_, and John sulkily reading a book on the sofa.

The broad smile Mary was wearing as she entered the Drawing Room promptly slipped as she remembered the boys' earlier behaviour.

"Upstairs to your rooms please, boys. Your father will deal with you when he gets home." Mrs Darling's stern words left no room for argument, but never-the-less, Peter could not resist;

"He's not _my_ father." It was a sly remark, said under his breath as he passed. But it did not escape Mary's attention, and he was utterly taken aback when she suddenly lost control completely, and slapped him, hard, across the face. Immediately, her hand went to her mouth, shocked at her own actions.

Peter's own hand covered the bruise, already blooming on his left cheek, as he fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. He pushed passed Mary, and raced up the stairs, ignoring the anxious eyes of the other children.

When George Darling arrived home that evening, he found his wife in a state of distress, although comforted by both her cousin, and her friend. Mr Barrie explained all to George, who listened with a stern expression on his face.

George was sorely tempted to go upstairs and hold the boys to account then and there, but his wife's pleas for peace, and James' advice to the contrary, caused him to reconsider.

"I have just been up to check on them any way." Hunt informed them. "All of the children are fast asleep."

This was a great relief for all concerned, and it was not long before Mr Barrie bid them Goodnight, and all, thankfully, retired to their beds.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Peter had not been asleep, nor was he now. He waited patiently in his bed as he listened to the grownups retiring. When complete silence fell through the house, he soundlessly slipped from under his covers, and tentatively crept to the door.

The hallway was deserted, the lights turned down low. When he was sure the coast was clear, he continued his silent approach to the Nursery.

Nana snored loudly tonight, a sure sign she was in a deep sleep. Peter felt reassured by this, gently closing the door behind him and tiptoeing towards Wendy's bed.

"Peter?" The boy wriggled beneath her sheets, causing Wendy to wake. "Peter, what are you doing here? You know you're not allowed to sleep with me anymore! Father will beat you again!"

"I don't care. Let him! I'll beat him right back!"

"You will not! Peter... please go back to your own bed. Please?" She had swivelled her body around to face him, and looked imploringly into his face. To her surprise, his eyes began to well with tears, and his lips began to quiver.

"Please don't make me go. I want to stay here with you. Please don't make me..." Peter began sobbing again. He hated feeling like this. Wendy hurriedly enveloped him and let him burry his face in her neck. This was as much to stifle the noise as it was to comfort him.

"Oh, please hush... please don't cry... it'll all be alright..." She continued to coo comforting words and calming sounds until she heard his breath become even. Then she too drifted back to sleep.

John had been dozing when he heard his sister's voice. He soon realised Peter was there too. He lay patiently until he was sure both were asleep, then sat up in bed to consider his options.

He had almost felt sorry for Pan when he heard him sobbing, but then he remembered how manipulative Peter could be. He had seen it time and time again in Neverland; Peter always had to get his own way.

These bitter memories made up his mind for him, and John resolved to fetch his father.

"What are you doing?" Hunt spun around in surprise, only to behold young John looking up at him questioningly.

"Oh, John... It's you." Oliver casually moved away from the boys' bedroom door. "I just thought I'd check on you children. Make sure you're all tucked up and not causing mischief." He laughed awkwardly, but John didn't move.

"Were you looking for Peter?" This question caught Hunt completely off-guard and he fumbled.

"Not particularly, no."

"Because he's not there. He's in the nursery, in my sister's bed."

"Oh. Oh dear. And I suppose you're off to raise the alarm..." John looked slightly hurt at what he had taken for a slur on is honour.

"No! It's not that I'm telling, but... well... Why should Peter get to do whatever he wants?" John glared jealously at the thought of it.

"Well, John... from what I've seen... he doesn't." John looked up at him incredulously, but then began to consider what then man was saying. "He _wants_ to go home, but he can't. He _wants_ to be close to Wendy, but now he's been told not to do that, either. And I'm sure he didn't _want_ the thrashing your old man gave him... or your jealousy."

"Jealous? I'm not jealous! Besides, I knew Peter before you, and he's only getting what he deserves!"

"Really?" Hunt looked at the boy dubiously.

"Yes, really!" John became even more resolute in his decision then, and marched past his uncle, towards his parent's bedroom.

"John!" John was shocked as he felt Hunt's hand grip his arm and pull him back. "I think you should reconsider." Panicked by Hunt's sudden change in tact, John let out a scream and began struggling.

"Let me go! Father! Father, come quickly!" A bleary Mr Darling appeared from his bedroom, Mary at his shoulder.

"What's going on?" Hunt let go of the boy, who proceeded to run to his father, still shouting.

"Father! It's Peter... He's in Wendy's bed again!"

The sound of this fray had woken the other children and Nana, who had pushed open the Nursery door and bounded out to investigate. A sleepy-eyed Peter then wondered into the doorway with the same intention, only to become petrified with shock at the look on Mr Darling's face.

For a few awful moments nobody moved.

George Darling took a step, and the scene turned to pandemonium. Everyone began shouting as Peter slammed the Nursery door and Mr Darling broke through it.

"Father, don't!" Wendy put herself in her father's path, but he easily pushed her aside, the red mist rising. Peter hadn't the time to hide under the bed, and Mr Darling grabbed hold of his exposed legs. Peter screamed with true fear as he was hauled from his hiding place and thrown onto the bed.

George forced Peter onto his stomach so he had a clear aim before realising, having just been in bed he hadn't brought a belt with him. He quickly scoured around for something else to use, finally grabbing up a walking cane.

"George, don't! Not here!" But it was too late. Mr Darling began to beat Peter with a ferocity that betrayed his own frustration and fatigue. The other children watched with terror in their eyes, frozen and silenced by the terrible scene before them.

Screaming in pain, Peter tried in vain to escape Mr Darling's anger, but he was powerless.

"George! That's enough!" Oliver pulled the cane from the man's grasp and put his hands on Mr Darling's shoulders to steady him. Now the only sound was Peter's uncontrollable weeping. The child coiled himself tightly into a ball as Oliver slowly walked George from the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Mr Barrie had taken note of the gradual change of atmosphere at the Darling household. Where once the house had been filled with laughter and warmth, an eerie chill had descended, bringing the stifling sense of melancholy with it.

Although James would have liked to think it was due to the presence of Oliver Hunt, he knew the problem truly lay with Peter.

It was not the child's fault - he knew that also - but the rocky relationship between Peter and George had caused the family to rupture. Communication had broken down, and it had gotten to the point where all involved, especially the grownups, would only exchange the briefest of small-talk.

Peter barley spoke at all. There were, however, those scarce times when he was able to play with the other children, when they could fleetingly forget their troubles.

Barrie was most concerned to see Peter and Hunt's friendship strengthening. Hunt was the only adult Peter would talk to on a regular basis; he was the only one Peter would willingly go near! Even James had found himself being treated coldly by the boy. It was worrying.

"Hello, James." Mary looked tired, her pretty eyes marred with dark circles. Mr Barrie greeted her kindly, entering the house at her invitation. It was quiet, but James was pleased to see all the children sitting calmly together on the floor of the living room.

"Good evening, children." He gave them his broadest smile, hoping to cheer them into their usual, happy selves.

"Good evening." most of them replied in chorus, contentedly enough. Peter did not respond, but he looked up as Oliver re-entered with a fresh glass of whiskey.

Hunt nodded to James before taking a seat on the sofa. He was quickly joined by Peter, who had abandoned the other children and his colouring in favour of snuggling into Oliver's side. This seemed a little too affectionate to James, and he could not help but notice Wendy and John's jealous stares.

Peter came out of the bathroom and started to make his way down the corridor towards sleep. It was quiet; most of the other children were already in bed, and the grownups never bothered trying to hurry him up anymore. In many ways he liked this, but it also made him feel that little more unwanted.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly Uncle Oliver was there, grinning down at him. Peter returned the smile.

"Hello, my boy. Off to bed so soon?"

"There's nothing better to do..." Peter shrugged. Hunt moved in closer. Peter frowned.

"You could always visit me later... if you get bored or can't sleep. We could have a little sleep-over... just the two of us." Peter felt wary, but a smile cracked over his face and he nodded. Hunt was the only one who was truly on his side.

Curly awoke at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Silhouetted by the lamps still burning in the corridor, he could make out the shape of Peter slipping from the room.

Peter crept silently through the house, but for once he wasn't heading for the Nursery. He came to a halt outside the grand walnut door of the guest-bedroom but moved no more. He thought of knocking, but something in him was fearful. So instead he just stood.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Breakfast had been a sullen affair once again. The mood of the household was still stifling, the tensions almost tangible.

Peter was late as always, and only now, when the other children were finishing, did he wonder through the dining room door. George Darling glanced up with a look of irritation, but just as quickly returned to _The Times_.

Mary also appeared exasperated as she watched Peter take his seat, but she held her tongue, too weary for another argument so early in the day. It just seemed so much easier to let Peter do what he wanted.

As Peter began picking at his breakfast, he felt other eyes on him. He looked up to see John and Curly staring at him intently, the latter with curious eyes, the former with a threatening glare.

"What?" Curly looked down hurriedly, but John continued to scowl.

"Stop staring at me!"

"John!" Mary chided. John slowly turned away.

"Why don't we play a game after breakfast?" Wendy offered (mainly to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen).

"That's a lovely idea, sweetheart. What would you all like to play?"

"_Hide and seek_!" screamed Michael, overcome with excitement. The other children responded with a chorus of cheers, and they all scattered before Mr and Mrs Darling could admonish them for such poor table-manners.

"I'll seek first!" called Tootles "One... Two... Three... Four..."

At first there was a lot of bumping and giggling, but in no time all sounds faded, leaving nothing but the steady count of Tootles; "...Twenty-seven... Twenty-eight... Twenty-nine... Thirty! Ready or not, here I come!"

Tootles was not the most renowned seeker of _Hide and seek_, but he enjoyed the role none-the-less, always optimistic that one day he would succeed in finding everyone. His primary downfall was his lack of thoroughness, always aiming for speed over success. This meant the game could last for hours, the other children changing hiding-places easily and often.

Today's game was no different. An hour later, only one Twin had been caught and joined Tootles on the hunt.

Peter had almost just been caught! He found this quite alarming, never having lost at this game before. Perhaps he had relied on flying more than he should have. It now seemed best to move to a new hiding place, so he carefully crawled out from under the writing desk of the study and slipped out into the hall.

He flung himself flat against the wall as he heard the running foot-falls of Tootles, who abruptly sped up the next flight of stairs without even pausing to look around. Breathing a sigh of relief, Peter turned to go downstairs and came face to face with a sullen John.

The boy was obviously not playing anymore, standing at the top of the stairs and leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

"What do _you_ want?" huffed Peter with an acid tone.

"I know what you are." stated John, the glimmer of a sneer alighting his face. Peter was slightly taken aback, unsure how to respond. For the first time, John seemed genuinely menacing.

"Oh, yes? And what's that?" Peter delivered this with bravado, but was feeling surprisingly anxious at the way John was looking at him; with pure hatred.

"You're disgusting." Peter flinched as if he had been slapped. After a moment of trying to comprehend John's insult, he just laughed.

"Disgusting? Is that it? You're pathetic." He moved to push past John, but John pushed first. Peter tried again to get by, and the two boys started scuffling.

"You were seen! Curly saw you!"

"Saw me what?" John heaved Peter away again.

"Going into Uncle Oliver's room... just like you used to go to Wendy's!"

"I did not!"

"He saw you! And I'm going to tell everyone."

"So what? Go ahead! What does it matter?" John considered this. Perhaps it didn't matter, but something told him it was wrong, and it would get Peter into a lot of trouble.

"Fine! I will! Then father will have a good excuse to give you another thrashing!" Peter screamed in outrage, hurling himself at John. Both boys grabbed each other's hair, ripping it from their scalps, and kicked at each other's shins. John scratched Peter's neck, who retaliated by biting John's arm.

The noise brought the children from their hiding places, and the grownups from their peace, but the two boys continued their battle.

Just as their audience rushed into view, John slammed Peter against the wall with all his might, but Peter pushed back with the greater force.

For a terrible moment, everyone watched John as he teetered on the edge of the stairs. The sudden look of panic on John's face was mirrored just as suddenly in Peter's, and he reached out to try and pull the other boy from danger. But it was too late.

With a horrified scream, John fell, tumbling down until his limp body came to a halt; a heap at the foot of the stairs.

For an awful minute, silence filled the house as all eyes were on John.

"John!" Mary's scream broke the stillness as she rushed forward and threw herself to the floor, next to her unconscious child. She was quickly joined by Wendy, while George ran straight for the telephone.

At first, Peter could only stare like the others. But he soon realised many of the eyes were, in fact, now on him. Even Mary caught his eye as she glanced up. Her expression was so accusatory, Peter felt tears spring into his eyes.

He didn't know what to do, and found he had lost his voice. He merely watched, from where he stood on the landing, as the other children rushed past to gather around their injured brother.

Within no time, Mr Darling had returned.

"The doctor is on his way. They're sending an ambulance." Mrs Darling only nodded, busy whispering soothing words under her breath, stroking her hand through John's hair.

Peter still just stood, dumbstruck, watching as George and Oliver bustled the other children into the Drawing Room. Michael was now in floods of tears and in the arms of Wendy. His sobs were still audible after the door was closed.

George returned to the foot of the stairs, then glanced up. Seeing Peter still standing there, his attention locked onto the boy. Peter felt a jolt of fear as he registered the anger in Mr Darling's eyes, but he couldn't find the sense to move.

"What did you do?" George asked incredulously. Peter's breathing quickened as the panic rose, but he still could not flee.

Careful to avoid John, Mr Darling mounted the stairs. He slowly began to climb without ever taking his eyes off Peter.

"What did you do?" The anger and pain in his voice became more severe, his teeth grinding, his eyes blinking back tears.

"What did you do?" His emotions spilled out, only three steps below where Pan stood.

All at once, Peter found the will to run, the panic erupting as Mr Darling bellowed at him. He ran as fast as he could, spurred on by the thunderous sound of his pursuer. He flew down the corridor and into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door just in time. He only had a moment to brace himself against the door before George crashed against it. Peter managed to hold strong long enough to turn the key in the lock, despite the tears and sobs that were now racking his body.

George hammered on the door, but soon sobs overtook him too, and his strong determined blows became feeble, the despair too much to take.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

All was silent when Peter awoke. He was still sat slumped against the bedroom door where he had cried himself to sleep, half terrified Mr Darling would come bursting through the locked door at any moment, such had been the mad rage in his eyes.

But all was quiet now. And still. Peter strained to hear the slightest betrayal that someone was still in the house, waiting for him. When he was finally quite certain that this was not the case, he took a deep breath to steady himself, and slowly stood up. His legs protested as he uncurled, the muscles aching from being in one position for too long, but he ignored this; he was too focused on the possibility of an ambush.

Nevertheless, Peter gripped the doorknob with what he was ashamed to see was a trembling hand. Taking another deep breath, he cautiously turned it and inched the door open.

* * *

Mr Barrie hurried through the crowded street, making his way as best he could towards the children's hospital, all the while chastising himself for being so careless. He had been busy supervising his new stage play, and had neglected his pledge to keep an eye on the Darling children and their unfavourable Uncle. Now it was too late: He had only just heard young John had been hospitalised, and immediately set off to see him. By good fortune Great Ormond St. was only a short walk away, but the bustle of the public frustrated him, and he felt this desperate journey would never end.

Soon enough, though, Barrie was in sight of the hospital and through the door before he knew what was what. He had to pause there a moment, in the middle of the foyer, to collect his thoughts and composure before approaching the efficient-looking nurse manning the reception desk.

"Good afternoon," he greeted her, removing his hat as she fixed him with a steely glare.

* * *

Peter stayed close to the wall, creeping his way along the corridor and peering round the corner cautiously. He looked down to the foot of the stairs to see John was no longer there, just a slight spattering of blood where he had cut his head in the fall. Peter didn't know whether to be relieved or worried. Had John died? Making his way to the bottom of the stairs, he was careful to avoid the stain, and approached the front door. After a few hefty tugs, Peter conceded that it was locked, so he quickly turned and ran towards the kitchen and the rear entrance of the house. This was locked as well. Panic began to fill Peter as he realised he was trapped. The only other chance was the Drawing Room window. Rushing to it, he began struggling with the latch, trying desperately to heave up the sash.

"Peter?"

Peter spun at the sound of his name to behold Oliver Hunt seated at the far side of the room, glass of brandy in hand, a newspaper open on his lap. "What on earth is the matter?"

* * *

"George. Mary." Mr Barrie almost ran to where his two dear friends were stood, looking over the bed of their injured child. "How is he?"

"The doctors say..." Mary's voice faltered into a sob.

"The doctors say he'll be right as rain in a day or two." interjected her husband. "But he needs to rest."

"Thank God! Tell me... How did it happen?" A shadow seemed to fill both the Darling's faces as the silence held.

"It was that... boy." George explained finally, through gritted teeth.

"Now, George... I'm sure he didn't mean to." But Mary did not seem as sure as she said.

The dark silence once again fell, and all three grown-ups stood watching the sleeping John for a while, until something occurred to Mr Barrie; "Where are the other children now?"

"Oh, Lisa is looking after them in one of the waiting rooms. We've told them about John. They're all fine."

"That's good. If you don't mind, I'll just go and see them. And I'd like to talk to Peter... get the story from the horse's mouth, so to speak..."

"Huh!" exclaimed George. "You don't think I'd let that brat anywhere near my children now, do you?! He's dangerous! The first chance I get, he'll be out of the house!"

"You mean... He isn't here?"

"No, James." answered Mary. "He's at home. Oliver is watching him."

* * *

"I want to get out. Let me out! Why are the doors locked?" Peter could not help feeling worried; he hated being confined.

"Now, where are you planning on going?" Hunt did not move from his place on the sofa, nor his gaze on the boy before him.

"I want to go home!"

"Oh? And where's that? Oh, yes... a magical island in the sky. I've seen that play too, Peter."

"What play? What are you talking about? Just, please... unlock the door!"

"I can't, Peter. I've been left strict instructions by your parents."

"But they're not my parents! Please! Let me out!" Peter was growing more and more frantic, pacing the floor like a caged animal.

"Peter, I think you need to calm down. Come on..." Hunt patted the empty space on the seat beside him. "Come sit with me and I'll try to take your mind off it." Peter stopped pacing and looked at the man. Oliver held the boy's gaze intently, not breaking eye contact for a second. That same slight shiver of apprehension went up Peter's spine, but again it was fleeting. Peter did not fear Oliver Hunt. In fact he almost liked him. But still... he did not quite trust him.

"Let me out."

"Peter... I can't. Now, come here."

"No! Let me out!"

"No! Come here!" Hunt finally rose from his chair and moved towards Peter.

* * *

At last the cab pulled up outside number 14. Mr Barrie almost threw the fare at the driver and rushed to the door. Using the key Mr Darling had given him, he unlocked it and burst into the house. Coming to a standstill in the doorway to the drawing room, he saw Peter and Hunt embraced in a warm hug, the boy sobbing quietly. Hunt shot him a glare but did not release the child. Peter, sensing a presence, turned his head and saw Mr Barrie standing there, looking dumbstruck. Peter broke the hug then, and considered a moment.

"The door's unlocked." It was a statement to himself rather than a question. Indeed, in his haste, Mr Barrie had left the front door open wide. Suddenly understanding his meaning, Hunt reached out to grab the boy's arm, but it was too late. In a flash he had pushed past Mr Barrie, run from the room, shot through the front door and was out in the street.

"You fool!" Hunt shouted at Barrie as he gave chase.


End file.
